


Look

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Hogwarts Era, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-05
Updated: 2005-10-05
Packaged: 2018-10-27 13:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10809939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: During a summer at the Burrow before sixth year, Ron helps Harry to deal with the loss of Sirius. Harry-Ron; no HBP spoilers.





	Look

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

It was one of those days. Summer, with bugs buzzing in people's ears. Hot, with sweat trickling down reddened necks into the stifling confines of teeshirts. Lazy, with the gnomes gone from sight, too tired from the heat to terrorize The Burrow's garden. One of those days where waking up was hard, and understanding how you fell asleep with the temperature as it was in the first place even harder. Food didn't sit well in the stomach and taking a bath was pointless.

Ron broke out in a glorious smattering of freckles on days like that, much darker than usual, and Harry reckoned that was okay, even if for a laugh. It made a day like this a bit better, somehow. It made Ron brighter, more vivid, and for whatever reason, that was good.

The smells of the Weasley's kitchen were tenfold the usual, the heat bringing out the aromas. The sunlight left spots in Harry's eyes that he tried to blink away while Ron found some cold pumpkin juice for them.

"Here," Ron said, his voice a bit thick, like the air, as he handed Harry a glass of it. "Come on."

Harry didn't bother to ask where they were going; he was too preoccupied with how his shirt kept sticking to his sides and underarms, and how his glasses continued to slide down his nose. "Don't they have any sort of charms to do for weather like this?" He had to stifle a groan at the icy path the juice left in his throat.

"One or two. Not that we can do them, and Mum's at Diagon Alley with Ginny for the day."

"Oh, yeah. Right."

Their bare feet smarted on the hot grass and packed dirt, eliciting little winces and yelps every so often. There was a breeze, but it was just as uncomfortably warm as everything else, and Harry finally gave up on his glasses, pulling them off and tucking them into his pocket, squinting at the ground as he followed Ron. His fingers wiggled against the numbing cold of the juice glass and he downed a bit more, wishing the frozen state of his mouth and throat would spread a bit.

"Where are we--"

"Just over here," Ron interrupted, letting the hand with the glass drop to his side; obviously he'd finished his already. "Want to show you something."

"Better be good, Ron."

"Come off it. Not any cooler in the house, is it?"

"No, but there's no sun."

"'S no breeze either."

Harry huffed a bit and shoved Ron at the small of his back. Ron grinned back at him, and the smile crept up into his eyes when Harry managed a little grin back. He looked almost relieved, and Harry felt a bit guilty then. He probably hadn't been the best of company so far, but he was trying.

"Breeze is warm anyway."

"Keep whining and we'll send you back to the Dursleys," Ron said with a tone the furthest thing from serious, a hand reaching out of its own volition to swat playfully at Harry's ear while they walked.

"At least the Dursleys have air conditioning," Harry retorted, catching Ron's hand and trodding over his foot deliberately. "Not that they ever use it."

"Ow. Play nice, Harry." Ron cuffed Harry's shoulder with his other hand and then pulled back when Harry let him go. He paused briefly to flex the offended toes before closing the gap between himself and Harry with a few quick strides. They were nearing the pond, glistening murky and green, and the ground was giving way from dirt to soft mud, squelching under their feet.

"Your Mum's gonna kill us if we walk in the house like this."

"Yeah, prob'ly," Ron agreed without sounding the least bit worried. "Right here, then," he said when they stopped at the edge of the water.

"Right here what?" Harry squinted around, searching for anything unusual.

"In the water, mate." Ron gestured vaguely and a hand came up to Harry's sweat-slicked nape, pushing him down to lean over the water. "Look."

Harry did, but the water was cloudy with reflected sunlight and disturbed soil. "I don't see anything, Ron."

"Blimey, Harry, put your glasses on. No wonder you don't."

"All right, all right," Harry muttered, pulling his glasses back on, blinking as everything came into focus. "I still don't see--"

But he wasn't meant to see. With flailing limbs and a loud splash, Harry fell head first into the pond, hollering unpleasant oaths with Ron's name stuck in the middle and coughing up luke-warm water. Once he'd settled on the muddy floor of the shallow bit of pond, he glowered up at Ron, who was so beside himself with laughter that he was almost falling as well. Harry's glass - formerly half full with pumpkin juice - floated past him and toward the far end of the pond.

"Oi!" Harry barked sharply, trying to shut him up, which, of course, only set Ron off again. "That was not bloody funny."

"Was, really. The little windmill movement you did with your arms..." Ron rubbed the wetness from his eyes and the sweat from bridge of his sun burnt nose. "Was a beautiful thing, Harry, honest."

"With my glasses on and everything..." Harry moaned dramatically, ignoring Ron, and fishing around for his wayward specs. "I ought to hex you for this."

Ron shook his head, tossing his own juice glass to the ground. "Nah. I was going to have us go for a swim, anyway."

"With my clothes on?"

A smirk. "Ah, no. That was a moment of inspiration."

"I am going to hex you," Harry said firmly as he stood up, a large amount of water dumping out the back of his shorts.

"Don't bother, I'm coming in."

Ron, of course, had the chance to take off his shirt and take his wand out of his shorts' pocket before wading in. "Gimme your wand and glasses, then."

"Oh, I'll give you my wand, all right." But Harry handed his glasses over and, as an afterthought, his shirt, which was weighed down heavily by the water.

"The wand." Ron snapped his fingers and Harry grudgingly turned it over. Ron leaned a bit sideways and tossed it all on the ground with his own stuff. "I'm to expect revenge, then?"

"When you least suspect it."

"Natch."

"Is it shallow over there, too?" Harry asked, a hand raised to block the sun from his eyes as he squinted toward the middle of the pond.

"No. But it's not too bad. Up to my shoulders, last I remember."

"Up to my nose, then."

A lazy shrug and more splashing as Ron slopped off into the pond; Harry trailed behind a bit hesitantly. "I'm not a very good swimmer."

"Did fine in the second task..."

"I also had gillyweed and the thought that I might never see my best mate again," Harry grumbled, failing to notice when Ron's already red ears and face flushed a bit darker.

When the water was high enough to lap around Ron's hips, he took a dive, not reemerging until he was a good few feet away from Harry, his grin back in place and his hair sticking to his forehead and neck. "C'mon, 'Arry. Not like I'd let you drown or anything."

Exhaling loudly through his nose to make it clear he thought this was a bad idea, Harry ducked down and dove sloppily into the water, popping back up again very near to Ron at his left, spitting out more water. "Is this pond clean enough to swim in?"

"Fine time to ask, when you're already in it," Ron said before smiling sheepishly when Harry gave him a familiar and-who's-idea-was-that? look. "It's fine, Harry. Just relax. It's loads of fun, swimming. Didn't the Dursleys ever take you?"

"No, that would have required me having fun," Harry pointed out, pulling his toes away from the floor and treading water a little. Perhaps he wasn't as bad as he thought he was.

Ron didn't reply. There was no need; they both knew full well what Ron thought of the Dursleys. A comfortable silence fell over them as Ron swam over to a patch of shaded water near a tree. Harry followed.

"Oh, it's a bit deep over--" Ron started, but then Harry's head suddenly bobbed out of view. Harry came back up a moment later, gasping a little. "I thought you said--"

"Sorry. Here." And Ron reached out, grabbing Harry's forearm and pulling him closer. "You're fine, Harry."

"I know."

"Cooler over here, see?"

"I can swim."

Ron fought a smile, but didn't let his arm go. "I know."

"Honest."

"Sure."

Then Harry gave in and looped an arm with Ron's. "This is all your fault."

"I know... you're so miserable out here in the cool water on a sunny day with me holding you up."

Harry didn't really feel that bad when he elbowed him. Accidentally, of course.

They spent the next hour floating and splashing around. Eventually Harry learned how to hold himself up without needing to sink down and push up against the floor over and over again, and Ron learned when to recognize that Harry was having problems, because he never asked for help like a normal person would. The sun started moving, slowly, and things became more fluid; Harry could dive in and out, Ron could splash him if he wanted, and they ended up grappling in the shallow end at one point, laughter and grunts ringing out in the air, wet skin colliding with wet skin. Ron's hair stood up on one side, and Harry's legs started to ache.

Grass stuck to their arms and legs when they sat down at the edge, still dripping and grinning, kicking water at each other during the lulls in conversation. Harry contemplated happiness, and that if anything was happiness, this was it. Not the sudden, surging sort of joy he felt winning the Quidditch Cup, but the simpler things that fill a whole day - a whole life - that made him feel warm and loved.

"What do you reckon the Order's up to now? Mum won't tell me anything." Ron's hair was starting to dry, the rusty brown lightening back into red, and he kept smoothing away the water on his freckled shoulders. Harry swallowed, feeling like the inside of his head was suddenly muggy and humid, and shrugged. "Probably the same as before. Easier now, though, with all that's happened. With everyone knowing."

"That's basically what Dad's hinted, yeah. He said Grimauld's has been--" But Ron stopped there, his eyes dropping down to the water, lips pursed.

Harry felt that icy cold path again, and it clenched up his throat, made his insides turn. He'd been doing all he could not to think of it.

"... Sorry, Harry."

"No, it's... 's all right."

Another silence.

"Harry," Ron said, tone weird and soft and not much like anything Harry had ever heard from him before. He scooted closer, his arm brushing Harry's. "Look up."

"No way. I'm not falling for that again."

The smile was back, but somehow his expression was still serious, and he nudged Harry's shoulder. "No, really this time."

Harry did, seeing blue sky, and the sun, starting to slip behind the horizon.

"Can't really see it now, but remember Astronomy? There's a star up there called Sirius. Hermione told me about it."

"Huh?" Harry's eyebrows knit together, fleetingly, and then his mouth falls open. "Oh."

"'S a bit corny, really, but so is magic, and that's... er... everything, isn't it?" When Harry didn't answer, Ron shifted, arm moving up toward Harry's shoulder, fingers petting the half-dry hair near his neck. It was foreign territory for both of them, comforting with touch. "He's always sort of watching, isn't he?"

The words didn't really soak in, just the warmth in Ron's voice, and the slight, misplaced edge in it. It was always a matter of reading between the lines, understanding what was not said more than what was. Especially with Ron.

"Thanks."

"Don't..." Then there were lips at Harry's temple, light and fleeting, but unmistakable. "I'm... y'know."

"Hey, it's..." Harry fell short, too, though, and they both laughed, awkwardly. Ron's hand didn't move.

"Just... here." The next moment, the one where Harry imagined himself doing it over and over again, was frozen for far too long, and his bravery almost caved. Not quite, however. Ron's head tilted toward him, his hair still sticking up ridiculously on one side, and that was all the push Harry needed. Their noses bumped at first, and both suppressed those stubborn, nervous giggles, lips meeting with twitchy hesitation.

But it was perfect, and it was warm and cool, at the same time. The kiss Cho had given Harry the year before had been desperate and messy, and so was Ron's that summer night, but for an entirely different reason. For an entirely right reason. And finally it was relaxed and consuming and it took both of them a good minute to realize that Ron's Mum was hollering for them from the kitchen.

"Oh," Ron mumbled, still flushed and surprised. "I guess we'd better go in, mate." His fingers squeezed Harry's shoulder, softly, before sliding away.

"Mmm." Harry gave the quickest of glances up, before turning his head again and pressing a shy kiss to Ron's cheek. "Guess we'd better."


End file.
